


Bites

by mechanical-scarecrow (WhimsicalWordWeaver)



Series: Bites [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bonding, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Case, Human -Sherlock, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Mates, No Sex, Other, Top John Watson, Vampire- Moran, Vampires, Werewolf and Vampire AU, Werewolf-John, Werewolves, changing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-28
Updated: 2015-07-28
Packaged: 2018-04-11 19:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4448996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimsicalWordWeaver/pseuds/mechanical-scarecrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is a newly made Werewolf, fresh back from the War. He moves in with the greatest detective on the planet. The only problem? Humans aren't supposed to know about Werewolves or Vampires, there's no way he could keep it from Sherlock.</p>
<p>Turns out he didn't need to.</p>
<p>Or:</p>
<p>Everything remains the same, John's still a soldier doctor, Sherlock's still a detective, only now, one of them is a Werewolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bites

John never figured himself to be full of imagination or wonder. The world was as it was and he was more than fine with that. He also never figured himself to be a fighter, his dream to be a doctor overruled all else, but even though his world was set in stone, it also continued to surprise him. He joined the army. 

Then his world made threw the biggest curveball at him. Harry was bit and turned into a Werewolf. It was fine, except for the fact that his entire way of understanding the world was turned on its head, but Harry was happy, she had found someone, and actually it was kind of cool to be one of the few humans in the world that knew about the existence of many different species. 

Then, his sister’s mate was killed by a Vampire, and Harry began to drink herself into oblivion.

So, John joined the war. Of course, he was already in one, but this war was different. It was hidden. The war between the Werewolves and the Vampires that everyone kept fighting even when no one could remember why it started in the first place. 

He was trained, specifically in medicine but he was talented in everything, and once he was ready, he was sent to the front lines.

John hated Vampires. They destroyed his whole family.

But that didn't mean fighting in the war was all bad. 

John made many friends in the War and they had often talked about Changing him, but John was hesitant about it. He was not sure if he wanted the extended life of a Werewolf. After his time in the war was over, he had nothing left. Why would he want an extended nothing?

Then, a stray bullet buried itself inside John’s shoulder, violent enough that it was going to be fatal, especially since the blood he lost attracted the Vampires that he was fighting.

His best friend, Jake, ran toward him, “I’m sorry about this John.” Then he leaned forward, teeth and claws extended, and bit John right in the shoulder, above the bullet wound, Changing him. John screamed as the pain overtook him. The world blurred, and for awhile he thought that he had already died. It all happened so fast, but that was War. 

Still, it saved him; no Vampire would dare get close to a newborn Werewolf, but they could still get their revenge on a lost meal another way.

Jake died that night.

When John woke up, he was in the hospital, away from the war, and his whole life was completely different. He could no longer fight, as a newborn he was too difficult to control, and his psychosomatic limp made him near useless. No, he could no longer fight.

He moved to London and there he met a human who would change his life again.

…

“The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street.” With a click of his tongue the strange man was gone, calling a short afternoon over his shoulder. John’s mind was ablaze as he made his way back to his apartment. Sherlock Holmes was only a human being, but he had a certain spark to him. He was different to any human John had ever met, before and after his Change.

It scared him, but he loved it.

He met up with Sherlock the next day.

After their first case was done and over with and they were relaxing, Sherlock proved his genius once again.

Sherlock rolled over on the couch and stared at John, curling his knees up against his chest, “You are a Werewolf. Newly Changed at that. You have yet to even transform by will, only by force of the moon. The War you have fought in was not the one shoved in front of the eyes of the public, but the War between the Vampires and the Werewolves. You were shot and then Changed almost immediately afterward. You did not want to become a Werewolf, but you have accepted that you cannot change what you are now even though you have still yet to Change of your own free will. I figure I shall let you know that I know about this now seeing as there is a full moon in a couple of weeks.”

The sudden silence was deafening. John sat there with his mouth agape. He felt like he should have been scared or angry, but instead he was just fascinated and an odd feeling of relief bloomed in his chest.

“How do you do that, you bloody genius?”

Sherlock blinked at him and then smiled, a small tugging at the side of his lips, “So, I got it right then”

“Yes, all of it. How do you know about out world?”

“My brother _is_ the English government, John, possibly he is the government of even more countries. Do you really think that he would not notice a whole world hiding in plain sight? Or that he could hide such an exciting secret from me?”

“I suppose that’s all true. So, are we good then?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed, “You’re asking if I’m ok with you being a Werewolf? Yes, John I am perfectly fine with it. More than fine with it really. If you’re asking if I’m scared of you, then no. You have the capability of killing me, but so does many other people in the world, and I trust you more than I trust them.”

“You’ve only known me for a day.”

“Are you saying that I should not trust you?”

John smirked, it almost felt like they were playing a game, “I am a newborn after all; a simple loss of control and you would be dead.”

Sherlock smirked too, “Nothing is simple with you, John, but I know you will not hurt me.”

That was enough. Suddenly, the long life before him was no longer as bleak as he thought. Now he could see a future that was bright and so much _fun_.

A few weeks later, and it was John’s first full moon in 221B Baker Street. As that night approached, John became more and more high-strung while Sherlock just seemed excited. He would be very disappointed when John told him that he would not be allowed to watch. Now, if only John could work up the courage to tell him that.

Turns out, Sherlock had already seen that too.

“You wish to be alone tonight.” It was not a question.

John’s leg was bouncing up and down on the floor as he sat in his chair, trying to drink his tea. He could feel the Change within him. His wolf trying to force his way out. It itched. 

“I do.” It was with some relief that he realized that he did not have to explain to Sherlock his fears. Sometimes, there were advantages to living with a deductive genius.

Sherlock nodded once, “Why are you afraid of letting someone see?”

Or maybe not. 

John swallowed, “You can’t deduce that?”

Sherlock looked away, scowling, and it seemed like it physically pained him to say the next words, “I can deduce what I know and what I can see. Motives are like science. There is reason, a cause and effect. Emotions, on the other hand, have no rhyme or reason. There’s nothing that I can truly deduce.”

John felt a sense of honor that he was allowed to be told such things. He felt as if Sherlock had never uttered those words aloud before, and the likelihood of it was that he never had. He cleared his throat, “I don’t know why. It’s not like I don’t accept what’s happened to me, I do… but, the idea of Changing in front of anyone or at a time other that the full moon just… repulses me.”

“Why, John? You are a Werewolf, are you not?”

John shifted in his chair, “Yes.”

“Why are you ashamed?”

_Because I’ve lost everything to this supernatural world, I don’t want to lose myself to it too_.

“I… don’t know why, Sherlock. Look, can we just drop this?”

Sherlock sighed, “I cannot convince you otherwise, can I?”

“Not this time, but maybe one day.”

“I look forward to it.”

…

That night, John locked himself in his room and sat on the floor in front of his bed. The window was open, and John watched as the sun began to set. He was not nervous about Changing, he had seen it done many times already, but he was worried about how his Wolf would react to being in the same house as a human. He had heard stories, and they were not all… pretty.

Moonlight shone through the window, and John’s body snapped as the Change began. He groaned as his bones snapped and reshaped themselves. As a doctor, he was always curious about how the process worked without any pain only a slight discomfort. However, he did not care about it too much because he really did not want the pain that came with a complete altering of the body. The process was quick and after a few minutes a golden-brown wolf lay panting on the floor.

John gently pushed himself onto his paws and stretched his newly formed muscles. He looked around the room with his new eyes. His wolf was happy and John could not remember a time when that was true. He felt… powerful. He felt like he could run for miles! John glanced out the window, and his body yearned to be outside. He wanted to feel the wind in his fur, the moonlight on his face, and mostly he wanted to _run._

A crash downstairs and the slight scent of blood that he immediately sensed rid his mind of all of those thoughts. Instinct flooded him that he just could not fight. The wolf forced him to break down the door. He leapt down the stairs and burst into the kitchen. Sherlock was sitting on the floor, leaning against the counter, with a rag pressed against his temple. 

_Sherlock. Protect. Protect. Protect._

That was all John could think. That’s the only thing that his instincts were screaming at him. He could not resist. He did not want to resist the party. John padded over next to his friend and whined.

Sherlock opened his eyes are stared, “John?”

John whined again and nudged his nose against Sherlock’s shoulder, trying to ask his questions without words. 

Sherlock understood, of course he did, “I am fine. I merely slipped and hit my head against the countertop. It is only a scratch, really.”

John nudged against the rag, wanting to see this ‘scratch.’ Sherlock rolled his eyes, but did so. Just seeing the small cut filled John with such rage, even though he knew it only happened because of a slip. He just _hate_ d the idea of Sherlock being hurt. The golden wolf leaned forward and licked the cut, trying to soothe.

Sherlock froze, “John?”

John whined and barked once.

“Silence, John. Mrs. Hudson is downstairs.”

John gave a playful growl and licked at the small scratch again. He wanted the blood to be gone. He did not want Sherlock to be in pain. 

Sherlock seemed incapable of moving, “John, what are you doing?”

John pulled back and stared at Sherlock. His wolf trying to push through so Sherlock could understand. Sherlock blinked and nodded once before moving on to what he thought was a more pressing matter. He dropped the rag and moved to place his hands in John’s fur.

“So this is your wolf.”

John rose himself to full height. Now that Sherlock had already saw him, he might as well get a proper look. He might be small as a human, but as a wolf, John was relatively large. Sherlock gave a small smile and stroked John’s fur. John whined a little bit and butted his head against the detective’s shoulder.

“I knew you had nothing to worry about,” Sherlock told him, “I told you that you wouldn’t hurt me.”

It was odd as a wolf to roll his eyes, but John managed it, and his eyes caught the small trail of blood on Sherlock’s temple again. That same well of protectiveness surged through him and he whined, leaning forward to gently bite at the sleeve of Sherlock’s robe, pulling gently.

He never realized how hard it was to communicate until he could no longer talk before now. 

Luckily, clever as he was, Sherlock was able to figure it out and he stood, letting John lead him, “Where are we going, oh the couch.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes but followed John’s silent instructions and sat down, “John I’m telling you, I’m fine. It’s nothing more than a scratch.”

John whined again and hopped onto the couch, laying his head on Sherlock’s lap, sighing contentedly. Sherlock’s hand automatically fell to John’s head, lazily stroke John’s fur.

“John I have a lot of experiments to look after tonight.”

The wolf huffed and settled down, and it was obvious that they weren’t going anywhere tonight. Well, Sherlock was not above whining.

“John, I’ve already slept sufficiently for the next couple of days. I’m _fine_."

It was actually easier than he thought to ignore Sherlock and simply fall asleep.

...

John blinked his eyes open and realized two things.

One: He was back to his human form.

Two: He was very, very naked. And laying right on top Sherlock.

He scrambled and fell off the couch, but luckily Sherlock remained asleep. Blushing deeply, he made his way quickly to his room. Once he was completely clothed, he sat on his floor and thought about the events of last night. His wolf reacted much better than he expected. Though the over protectiveness really shocked him.

But if he was being honest with himself, that same urge still burned in his chest. 

And there was another urge churning within him, but he couldn't quite place it. He stood, just in time for Sherlock to bang the door open.

"Oh," the taller man said, "There you are."

John made a small gesture at his room, "Where else would I be?" 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Well, you were so keen on making sure that I stayed on the couch last night, I thought you would still at least be in the living room."

John rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish, "Well, last night was... odd."

"Are you saying your wolf has never reacted that way around anyone before?" Sherlock rose an eyebrow.

"No, not really no. I've never been this close to humans before during my Change, but I've never reacted so strongly to anything before." 

"So what's so special about this time then?" Sherlock was gearing up for full-on detective mode, "I don't have enough data on Werewolves. This is a wonderful time to begin some experiments. It's the perfect baseline, after a full moon..."

John tuned out Sherlock's rambling, because he figured it out. That strange feeling in his stomach. He had know Sherlock for a little over a month now, and it didn't seem like long enough, but...

"I want to Change you." He didn't even register that he said it at first.

Sherlock stopped short, mouth agape and just staring at John. After a moment, his mouth snapped shut, "What?"

John was too appalled at his own feeling to even feel interested at Sherlock finally not ready for something, "I... want to Change you. Into a Werewolf. I want you, in my pack."

Sherlock blinked, "I... Oh."

"Don't worry, I'm not going to do anything about it. I'm not even really understanding all of this right now." He sat heavily on the bed, raising a head to rub at his forehead. 

"What if... I wanted you to?"

John's head snapped up, "What?"

"Werewolves have always been fascinating, and it would certainly help with cases."

John snorted, "I'm not Changing you, Sherlock, especially if you only want it for experimental purposes."

Sherlock sat next to John, hands in his lap, "There might be other reasons as well." 

John peeked at Sherlock from the corner of his eye, and that same spark that existed since day one flared, "Well, let's start with dinner first. See how that goes."

Sherlock stood, "Sounds good. 8?"

"Perfect."

...

A few weeks after that, they were dating and they had a case. 

It was a series of dead men all around the age of 30, all murdered by a very brutal attack. And they were all Werewolves, but the police weren't aware of that. 

"The murderer is female. Small build, can't be taller than 5 feet 4 inches. These are all potential husbands, but ultimately she has decided that they were unsuitable." 

Later when they were away from human ears, John muttered, "She's a Werewolf too right? Looking for her mate."

"Yes," Sherlock said, "And I know how we're going to catch her."

...

His brilliant plan was using himself as bait. He matched the physical criteria of all the other victims. Tall, pale, with dark hair. It wasn't hard to lurk around her pick up spots. He might not be a Werewolf, but he was sure that he could lure her in. Besides, he could always just follow her.

Sure enough, after only 20 minutes she approached him.

"Hey," she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and Sherlock resisted the urge to gag, "I couldn't help noticing you were all alone out here. Are you waiting for anyone?"

Sherlock shook his head, "No, it's just me today."

She grinned, "Excellent." She placed her hand on his arm, "I know an even better coffee shop around the corner. Would you care to join me?"

He pretended to think about that for a minute, "Sure, sounds wonderful."

"Follow me then." As soon as they turned the first corner into an alley, she was on him, and his mind went black.

...

John snarled and paced, "I bloody well knew this would happen. That stupid idiot. I told him. I _told_ him. Now we have no idea where he is! He could be killed!"

Lestrade tried to placate him, "John please. We'll find him. Sherlock can take care of himself."

_Not against Werewolves_. 

The two walked outside and John froze. There... in the wind, John could smell something. It was very faint, but it was...

Sherlock.

John took off at a run, ignoring Lestrade's shout behind him. He was concentrating whole-heartedly on the scent. It led him to a hotel, and he raced in, following the scent to the third floor. He crashed through the door to the sight of Sherlock, sprawled on the bed. The female Werewolf on top of him, scenting him. 

John snarled, throwing her across the room, "Get off of him!" God, she was touching him. His Sherlock. 

His mate.

"Well can't you smell him?" She grinned, "He smells amazing. You haven't Claimed him. He's open to anyone." 

"Shut up," The words were garbled in John's anger. The woman smirked, standing and stroking her fingers through Sherlock's hair. 

"Oh, he smells divine. You know, I think he might be my mate." John was shaking as she brushed her nose against his neck, "I might Claim him. Right here."

John lost it. He launched himself at the woman, Changing in mid air as he did so. She was no match for him, and John was lost in the bloodlust. He tore her into pieces, just mangled flesh of what she once was. He would have kept on going to, until she was nothing, except Sherlock grunted from the bed, slowly sitting back up.

John has never Changed back so fast in his life. He was on the bed in an instant, hands roaming over Sherlock, looking for any injury, "Sherlock, oh my God, Sherlock." Finding no injuries, besides a nasty bump on the head, John collapsed on the detective, sticking his nose in the pale neck. 

"John, what's happened? Where's the killer?"

"Oh the wall." John said, "You are _never_ doing that to me again."

"It was a necessary risk..."

"No! You are my mate, and you will not willingly let yourself be kidnapped again."

"Your mate?"

John froze and abruptly sat up, "I..."

Sherlock followed him up, "I'm your mate? But... I'm human, how could you know?"

John lowered his head so it rested on Sherlock's shoulder, "I just... do. When you were gone, I just lost myself. I couldn't control myself. You're my mate, Sherlock. Please tell me you're ok with that."

"Don't be daft John, as if I would enter a relationship expecting anything less."

John chuckled, "Of course. Right."

"I can't be a proper mate to you though as a human."

John tensed, "We'll talk about that at home. Right now, I'm naked."

Sherlock hummed, hands running down John's sides, "I think that makes this a perfect time."

"Sherlock! There is a dead woman in here."

"Relax, she's not looking."

"Oh my God, no. We are not doing this here. We are going to call the police and... Oh, bollocks, what will they think. They can't see this."

"Hmm, oh didn't you know? Lestrade is a Werewolf too."

"There is no way. How could I not know this?"

Sherlock shrugged, "Well I'm not a Werewolf, but you are still quite young in their terms, maybe it comes with time."

"Lestrade is a Werewolf... and he hasn't told me."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I would think that you would be happy with an older Werewolf to be around. At least he'll understand why there is a corpse torn to pieces and you're naked."

John's face turned an alarming shade of red, "Oh my God, my clothes are destroyed. What will everyone think?"

"I told you Lestrade will understand. Get off of me." Sherlock rolled his way off the bed, stripped his coat as he did so, "Here. You can wear that."

Sherlock crouched at the remains of the werewolf girl, "Honestly, I'm surprised she went for me. I'm not a Werewolf, so there's no way to properly Bond with me. And definitely no way of knowing if I was her mate."

"She wanted to Claim you first. It's what we do when we signify a growing relationship with a human. It's almost like a pre-bond. Humans and Werewolves can't Bond, but with a Claim, the human is still connected to a Werewolf. It's not as strong, but they both can feel each other." John was getting a bit breathless toward the end, just imagining what it would be like to Claim Sherlock.

Sherlock eyed him from the corner of his eye, "You want to Claim me."

"Well, er, yes," John cleared his throat, "But this is not the place to be discussing this."

"At home then."

"Fine, but let's call Lestrade and get this mess sorted."

...

Later, while they were sipping tea, Sherlock spoke, "Claim me tonight."

John choked on his tea, "What?"

"Come now, John. I want you to Claim me. This relationship is clearly not going to be ended anytime soon, and I feel like it is only logical to move on to this. Waiting is really just a waste of time since we're going to do it soon anyway."

John just stared at Sherlock, mouth agape and arousal beginning to swirl in his abdomen, "I... Oh God, yes. Come here."

Sherlock smirked, put down his tea, and sauntered his way over to John, sensually climbing on top of him. Sherlock straddled John, hands cupping his neck, bringing the Werewolf into a slow kiss. John responded eagerly, before pulling away with a gasp, "Before we start. Most Claimed humans enter a sort of state. It's not permanent, but everything will seem... cloudy."

"If you're trying to scare me away, you've waited too long for that." 

John threaded his fingers in Sherlock's hair, pulling gently to expose the detective's throat. He nuzzled in gently. The place where the mark would go wasn't as sensitive to a human, but John did his best to make it feel good for Sherlock.

He licked the spot once and then bit down hard. Sherlock jolted and went frantic with motion. John kept nipping and sucking, and then his mind whited out.

...

After, John was stroking the barely there mark on Sherlock's neck, watching the detected shiver and eyes unfocused.

"C'mon, Sherlock," John murmured, "You can fight through the fog."

Sherlock shoved his head into John's chest, gently kissing at the skin. 

John stroked his hair, reveling at the pressure in his mind that was Sherlock. It was a deeper connection than he thought possible with a human, but he loved it. He couldn't read his thoughts, but he could sense the emotions Sherlock was feeling. 

After what seemed like hours, but was moments, Sherlock gently raised himself, blinking rapidly, before breaking out in a small smile, "It worked."

"You doubted me?"

"I admit I had my worries. Is that you? In my mind?"

"That's me."

Sherlock's smile grew and he gently lowered himself again so he could curl around John, "It was more compelling that I had anticipated. I almost didn't want to fight it. I would have been perfectly happy being Claimed by you and have nothing else."

"Well, I wouldn't want that for you. Your Work is a part of you, and sure it's a bit unconventional for the Werewolves, but I prefer you completely free-minded."

"Not many people would agree with that sentiment."

"Well I'm not 'many people.'"

Sherlock grinned, "No you're not." And they kissed.

...

Months later, and they were ready to Bond. But first, Sherlock had to become a Werewolf. They were going to do it bright and early, Thursday, but a case came along that required their full attention. As soon as the case was over, Sherlock would be Changed.

Of course, it didn't go that way.

...

"These murders, I don't think that these people were murdered intentionally."

Anderson scoffed, "So what? They just so happened to trip and land neck first on the same type of knife?"

"You see but do not observe, Anderson. Yes these people were murdered, but not to kill them. Whoever did this, did it to send a message. These people just happened to be in the right place at the wrong time."

Lestrade stepped forward, "Well, then. Who is this message for?" 

"Me. And John." He leaned forward to whisper, "I also have reason to believe that this is done by a Vampire."

Both he and John snapped straight, going tense at the mention of their worst enemies, "But no blood was taken."

"Again, this is just a message. Come along John, I believe we're about to meet Moriarty."

...

The investigation led them to, surprise surprise, an abandoned warehouse. 

"Don't you think we should at least bring along Lestrade?"

"Nonsense, we can handle this ourselves. Besides, we wouldn't want to offend our hosts."

They were in the main room now. They could barely make heads or tails of where they were. It was too dark, and the shadows cast from the windows seemed to be wriggling like some sort of snake.

"We've received your invitation." Sherlock called, "Hope we aren't too late."

"Not at all, Mr. Holmes," a man said, stepping out from behind some crates. He was in casual clothes, stubble along his chin and a smile full of fangs. The wriggling shadows shot from the wall and tied around John and Sherlock, holding them in place. 

John struggled, but he couldn't rip the shadows, "What are these?"

"Like them? They're pets of Moriarty. Shockingly loyal and completely indestructible."

"So you must be his right hand man. Moran, isn't it?"

Moran chuckled, "Very well. You seemed to have done your homework. Moriarty sends his regards of his absence. There was some last minute affairs that needed tended to."

"All is forgiven," Sherlock smiled tightly, "We'll catch him at the next one."

"Sure you will, Mr. Holmes." Moran stalked closer to Sherlock, and John was just about going ballistic, ripping at his binds. John was growling low in his chest, and Sherlock could see the beginnings of a transformation in the works.

"I have to admit, I have never seen a Vampire with my own eyes before. Quite fascinating if I must say."

"Thank you, Mr. Holmes, but we aren't meeting here for a science lesson. Moriarty wanted to leave you with a gift."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"You see, Moriarty knew how fascinated you were with our world. He thought it would be best to give you a hands on experience."

"Don't! You dare! Touch him!" John strained and fought, spit running down his chin.

"It seems like you don't have much of a choice. Besides, Mr. Holmes, you smell so delicious." 

Moran yanked Sherlock's head to the side and bit him hard in the jugular. The last thing he remembered, were the sounds of John's screams.

END OF PART 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Tumblr: tony-fvcking-stark


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